What If Our Human Lives Are Worse?
by Mrs. Miracle
Summary: A short oneshot of Gilbert's insanity and greif. I don't even know it's 1:10 AM and I'm depressed and tired leave me alone.


Gilbert Beilschmidt. A sad boy, of only age 14. He's been through too much in this life. Currently, he was up for adoption. He had a little brother, a nice loving mother and father.. But hey. I said _had. _Didn't I? All of these were taken away from him. Taken away. He lost his mother first. She died giving birth to Ludwig- his little brother. He loved his brother a lot- and like some people, he didn't blame Ludwig for his mother's death. It was a shame Ludwig never got to meet her.. Well, now we've lost mom. Right? Yeah. Sadly. How did Ludwig and Father go? I'll tell you.

It wasn't that strange of a day. Pretty normal. Everything was fine. The nice family of three were just driving home from the store, until they got hit. Some drunk, texting, teenaged driver, who really didn't care at all that she hit them had been the cause. Smashing into the right side of the car, glass shattered and that took away the lives of Gilbert's father and little brother. His brother was only 3. This happened when Gilbert was 11. So he really had no idea what was going on. First he tried yelling his fathers name. "Vati! Vati!" but to no avail- Vati did not respond. He looked between where his father and his brother were. Tears streaking down the poor child's face, just before the ambulance came. And took him away. Somehow, he had not been injured at all. It was a miracle for his life- but his life was now tainted. Tainted by the loss of everyone he held dear. '

The 14-year old lay there, still. He lay there on his bed. Just thinking about this made him cry. Made him want to die. His piercing red eyes scanned the room- until they came across what he was looking for. A knife. A knife sat neatly on his dresser. He slowly- painfully slow- reached up and for it. He leaned back down in his bed. Expressionlessly staring down at the blade. Tears still coming.

He pressed it to the bare skin on his wrist. He pressed it to his wrist. And pressed. And sliced. Blood come dripping down, he stare at it blankly. That wasn't enough for Gil. It was just sad against the shadows of all the other scars left on that same wrist. So he pressed again.. And pressed... And sliced. More blood come. The wounds hurt. But.. At the same time, felt good. Yes, he was one of those freaks that liked the feeling of pain. He loved it. His lips curled into a smile. And he began to giggle. He giggled, and giggled. Aimlessly he continued to giggle, and cut his skin more uneven and shallow. He was well with keeping his insanity hidden in front of others, but to himself.. Let's just say, you don't want to know what goes on in this child's mind. He dreams of the one's he hates deaths. He wishes for the houses he's seen to catch on fire at his hands. His goal is to kill someone in this lifetime. Was there a problem with that?

Gilbert heard footsteps. He heard footsteps, and they were not his own. How could he make footsteps if he was laying down in a blood soaked bed? He couldn't, right?

The footsteps Gilbert heard grew louder, yet he was still giggling and staring crazily at his open cuts, still making more. He seemed to be having the time of his life. This was the rootine every night. Why should he get caught now? Right? Well apparently he should. For what reasons, he did not know. But he did not cease his cutting and giggling fit when he heard the door open gently. Instead, he turned his crazed gaze to the door, to stare the caretaker right in thee eyes. Wide brown met crazy Red. She screamed at what she saw, where did he even get the knife?!

Just then, Gilbert realized something. 'I like seeing this so much, why not cut someone else rather than myself~?' With that he reasoned and chased after her- knife in hand. The crimson red stained the floor, and he insanely chased the scared-to-death woman. He eventually caught up to her. And tackled her.

He tackled her to the ground. How could such a scrawny kid do that to such a _not_scrawny adult (if you know what i mean cx)? Well. He did. He slowly- painfully slow-both literally and physically- pressed the knife down on her chest. He pressed it down until her chest became cold. And he could hear no more breathing, or feel no more of its rise and fall. Gilbert looked up with an even crazier look- if that was even possible- to the people who had witnessed what just happened.

Gil' went around. Killing them all. Until one decided he shouldn't live for his sins. The boy was shot dead by the same girl who crashed into them .


End file.
